Angels and Knight
by Zethos
Summary: A collection of oneshots/short stories I have written, and each chapter will reflect another story.
1. Angel's Knight

Author's note: This is probably a rare short story that I have decided to post. It's actually an idea I discarded when I was writing my main project. Well, it seemed strong enough to stand on its own, so I decided to give it a storyline and set it off to the world. This was _partly_ - and somewhat unfortunately - derived from my romantic experiences.

I might write another few stories based on this, too. Don't be too surprised. Now, good luck, and enjoy the story.

P.S: Kudos to those who can find the two recurring themes in my stories.

* * *

_Knight [verb]_

_1. Warrior, usually dressed in shining armor._

_2. A chess piece, moving in an L-shaped direction_

_3. A guardian, belonging to the Ancients_

Regardless of what you think, there used to be six classes instead of two.

At the height of their power, the Knights had built up the underground fortress found in the dungeon. Their counterparts, the Kranthos, built the Tunnels that Lost the light. It was designed to test one's determination, and the worthy were accepted into their brethren.

But something went wrong, and the era of the Knights crumbled.

* * *

"Empress, we should begin."

The Empress was a young girl, around fourteen at the most. But she looked strangely intelligent, somehow. One of the Knights had hurried up to the throne, and delivered the message from his superiors.

"We'll wait for the Dark Lord." The Archlord spoke. He was the leader of the Knights.

"Correct." The Empress nodded. "We must not divide ourselves before the battle begins."

The Knight nodded, and dashed off. Everyone was fidgeting around. There were rumors, strange rumors that they didn't believe,

Just at that moment, the doors burst open and the Dark Lord strode in. He wore a black cloak, like his Kranthos. He stopped just before the throne, and bowed. "I hope I'm not late."

"We're early." The Archlord said, "We can begin."

The Empress nodded, and the Archlord walked to her front. Everyone froze in their place, and stood up straighter.

"Dear followers," the Archlord said, "I'm sure that most of you, if not all, have already heard of the rumors. Yesterday, the Dark Lord and I went up and confirmed them."

Some fidgeted, but they stopped immediately. Nobody dared said a thing.

"A Double Knight now runs around above, and he wrecks havoc upon Ellin. After a thorough meeting, the Empress has given the order. We must stop this Knight."

The majestic pillars at the side suddenly glowed, as if applauding their decision. The Kranthos said or did nothing; they simply stood, arms behind her backs, and stared at the Empress. They had been given the nickname, the 'Grim Reaper', from above. The Knights clapped.

"Under the orders of the Dark Lord, the Kranthos be sent out this afternoon to seek and destroy him."

The Kranthos bowed.

"And as for the Knights… those who've their own duties to do, they may excuse themselves." The Archlord stared at the ceiling, "This'll not be an easy task. Not everyone will come back alive."

The Knights looked around at each other. Some touched the hilt of their sword for comfort.

"Those who want to join the attacking force," The Archlord said, "assemble here at noon. Choose wisely."

The Knights stamped their feet. "Yes sir."

"Court dismissed."

The majestic, glowing pillars faded. The doors opened, seemingly of their own accord. They filed out quickly, but the Empress and the Dark Lord didn't move.

"Archlord, leave us first." The Empress said, "I've something to discuss with the Dark Lord."

The Archlord nodded. He turned, and descended down with the others. When everyone was gone, the doors closed again.

The silence became deafening.

"I know what you're thinking, Lord." The Empress said. She looked at him, past the cold demeanor that would frighten even the most hardened criminals, "but you must remember that we cannot change the cycles of Nature, nor can we change what happened before."

"Cycle?" The Dark Lord said, "Evolution only happens when a cycle is disrupted. When a new predator is introduced, the prey must adapt or die. That is how change happens. Either I die, or both of us will."

"I'm not going to let you fight my battle." The Empress said, and she shook her head. "I knew it, from the start, that when I sat on this throne."

"Then why let yourself be crowned?" The Dark Lord said. He turned to her, and bent down, so their eyes were close."Do you think I like sitting around in this black armor everyday? That having a manor, fifty servants, and an army to command would satisfy me? I'm a greedy man, Empress, and I long for the world's greatest treasure!"

She gazed up at him, and looked at her impossibly young hands. She turned away from him for a second, and he stood up.

"I'm sure that there must've been a purpose," the Empress said, "for everything that has happened. Since you've been given the power, Lord, you should serve." She gazed up at him. He had been reduced to a gaunt and fearsome hunter. Maybe if they had a second chance…

"I serve nobody else." The Dark Lord said, "The maxim of the Knights, you must remember. But if we could go back in time…" Drops of water fell from the ceiling and crashed against the cold, marble floor. But none of them cared.

"Maybe." The Empress said. "But that has now been forbidden. Remember, love to live, and live to love."

"I only know what's one for all, and all for none." The Dark Lord said. "Everything's been decided, Empress. Allow me to die for an Angel. We'll avoid other unnecessary deaths."

"Lord, just listen… please!"

"Not when my destiny lies at stake." The Dark Lord said, "I once had everything, but my greed and folly… made me lose my greatest treasure. It's not going to happen twice."

"Lord, this man is not as simple as you think. The one he fights for has already died two months ago." The Empress said. "Celestia's dead."

"So he's no longer a Knight? That will just make my job easier."

"No! He has the Hand of Fate behind him, I believe." The Empress said. She thrust her hand out and pointed to the throne. "I've not been happy sitting on this throne. Even the air here has been stifling me. Just let everything be, please."

"Ha!" He said, "Make me. I'm one of the sons of Darkness, and I will not accept Fate."

"Lord, the time to let go has arrived!"

"Pardon my brazenness, but I must defy your order. And" he turned to her, and bowed, "If it isn't too audacious, I just have one simple request that I hope you'll grant."

She sighed, and shook her head. "What is it?"

"After the battle's been fought today, burn my body," He said, "and throw the ashes out to the great oceans. Now, please excuse me."

The Empress gazed as the Dark Lord disappeared with a swish of his cloak, and she begged the spirits of the Mirror to bless them.

* * *

_Kranthos [verb]_

_1. A medieval Emissary of Death/Darkness_

_2. Hunter _

_

* * *

_

"We're ready, Empress." The Archlord said.

By afternoon, the throne room had been filled. To the Empress's horror, everyone was as willing as the Dark Lord to fight. Where did the spirits of love and kindness go?

"What about the ones they'll leave behind?" The Empress asked. She didn't look at him, and instead leaned on her throne. She knew that many dreamed of sitting of it, but secretly she wanted to be rid of it. Her position had been as stiff as the back of this gawky chair.

"They'll be seen to by the Dark Lord." The Archlord said, "May we begin?"

The Empress closed her eyes. She didn't want to give the order, but her subjects were adamant. History was repeating itself. "Go."

The pillars at the side glowed brightly, until it became too bright to stare at them. The room began to feel warm and humid, and the winds began to slap their faces.

For once, she wished that she had been an ordinary girl. She felt like running up, and stopping them, but they were too determined. The Dark Lord would probably even resist her order, knowing him. There was nothing she could do, but watch.

Why were they so wllling to die? Did they even care about the ones they left behind? She hated offering them only the pedants they left behind. But she remembered what he had told her before:

_A man with only one thing to fight for is the most dangerous of all._

"Good luck," She whispered to herself, and a flash of blue illuminated the whole room and left nothing but her.

The battle was going to be fought.

They were teleported up to the surface, to the outskirts of Henesys. Smoke was rising to the skies, and there was the faint smell of barbequing meat. People were screaming, and horses were walking around, saddles still on their back.

The Knights went into the village first. The Dark Lord stared around at his followers. They were ready. "Split up, and find him!"

They disappeared as swiftly as the wind. They sought to find the cover of the shadows, of course. They were all the sons of the Darkness, having been abandoned by the Light.

But there was no point in that order, really. The Dark Lord knew things which the Archlord did not. He sat down in the shade, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.

It was time.

He could hear even the birds chirping a mile away, and the crash of a waterfall. He could smell roast chicken and wild boar, and he could feel their hides against his hands. In his visions, he could see the rogue Knight. His hatred of the world had given him strength. His love for his angel had carried that even further. The amassed power was almost like a beacon to his senses.

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pedant. There was his name written on it. It had been given to him when he had joined them. The pedant felt cold and unfamiliar to him, but it was his past, after all. He had relinquished everything when he ascended to the Dark Lord.

Except for two other things, both he sought to brought to the oceans. Nobody else could know. The first he didn't need, and hated. The second he dreaded people to know, because it would implicate another person.

"Bring me to where my heart and destiny lies." He told the pedant.

The pedant lied.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in Sleepywood. The grass underneath his feet was as soft as silk, yet they squelched when he stepped on them. It was damp here, and the expensive herbs that grew had simply drawn greed into a common place.

But the power… it was gone. Where was the rogue Knight? The Dark Lord closed his eyes, and allowed his instincts to seek.

There.

He hurried to the village entrance. None of the Kranthos were here, he was sure. The village seemed perfectly fine – if it wasn't empty. The Lord wasn't fooled by such tricks. It was a mere illusion.

He snapped his fingers. The signpost next to him fell, and slowly transformed into a human body. He was carrying a bag and the herbs inside had spilled out. There was no wounds on him – he was perfectly fine, if it wasn't for the fact that he was dead.

There was another sound. The Archlrod turned. A rope dropped, and a skeleton crumbled to the ground in its place. There was a rotten stench. A house faded away, and in its place was a crater. The gentle breeze that touched his face had stilled. He saw skeletons and burning houses everywhere.

He was here.

"You've strange powers, Dark Lord." A voice said behind him. "I had thought that I had become the most powerful, of you all."

The rogue Knight was standing behind him. His white uniform had yet been creased, and a rose was still pinned upon it.

"You overestimate yourself." The Dark Lord said. "You may have become a Double Knight, but you know nothing about the Knights."

He sneered. "Of course not. But did you think that I became a Double Knight on my own?"

"What do you mean?" The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing." The rogue knight said, "You don't seem to know much about the knights, either. You cannot change fate, Lord. You see the villagers around here?" He beckoned around them, "I swore revenge against them once, and they failed to change their fates."

"You didn't kill them for nothing." The Lord said. "Your hatred lies in the air."

The knight stared at him. "Yes, indeed. You surprise me." He looked around. "But they deserved it."

"Nobody deserves to go that badly."

"Oh yeah? They are selfish bastards." The knight said and he shook his head. "They were given the chance, our fate was in their hands… but no, they condemned her – and me – two months ago. This is their punishment. They made her suffer even more."

"I sorely regret it, you know." The knight bent down and picked up a bone. "But all this is necessary. I have to save her."

"We are similar men, I see." The Lord said, and he nodded. "I understand your pain well. But even so, we stand at opposing sides. What you're hunting is what I'm protecting."

The knight laughed, his voice reverberating around the dark forest. He threw out his hands. "Very well. I'll like to see if your hatred is stronger than my love!"

* * *

"Archlord, there seems to be no trace of the rogue."

They had searched around the boundaries of Henesys, and travelled as fast as they could. But the tracks stopped and appeared as strangely as they had started. He had examined, and analyzed it many times.

Something was wrong.

The rogue knight was impossibly powerful. He had stumbled across an illusion. What he thought was a pond turned out to be a deep hole filled with bodies. What was happening?

He understood how a Knight worked, of course. They gained power from their loved ones, named the Angels. The Kranthos were the ones who were empowered by their hate, yet had become detached enough. But now… what was a Double Knight? How could so much hate and love exist in the same person?

"Archlord?" The Knights behind him called. "It's getting dark, and even the Kranthos can't find him. Perhaps we should return and hunt him down tomorrow."

"Wait. Let me search." The Archlord said, and the Knights nodded. They formed a circle around him. He closed his eyes, sat down, and crossed his legs. He extended his senses around the area.

He could hear a dim crashing – perhaps a waterfall – and wolves howling. He could see the remains of a dinner, and the hides being left out in the sun. But he couldn't smell or touch anything from his visions. All of his senses ought to be awakened. His mind whirled, and he clenched his fists. Sight, senses and hearing would do.

He could find nothing remarkable in the distance. He tried to stretch his visions across the island, but his mind felt as if it was being frozen. He struggled, and he could hear the whispers of the Knights around him. He was losing his vision. But he knew something was wrong.

"I can't sense the Dark Lord any longer." The Archlord said, and he shook his head. He crashed against the wet grass, and breathed heavily. He felt as if he had been strangling himself.

The Knights looked at each other. They unsheathed their swords and glanced around the horizon. Finally, one of them asked, "Archlord… do you mean that he's…. the Dark Lord is… dead?"

"I don't know." The Archlord said, and he rubbed his head. "There might be other reasons. Perhaps he has managed to cloak well enough."

But the Archlord was frightened himself. He forced himself to think through his pounding headache.. Even the Dark Lord couldn't cloak himself that well.

But what about the Double Knight? The Archlord couldn't sense him, either. Something was wrong. Perhaps both were dead.

"Prepare to return to the throne room. Crow, pass a message to the Kranthos." The Archlord, "Tell them to ask the Dark Lord to report in."

"He's really dead?"

"Do it, now."

They were already back in the throne room when the Kranthos replied. Using Mana, they could assume a basic form of telepathy. But it couldn't be sustained, and was used only in emergencies.

The Archlord dismissed them and made sure they were gone before he requested the Empress's presence.

She arrived quickly, and she looked calm. But he knew that she was anxious inside. Yet it looked all wrong. She was definitely around twenty, but her reign as Empress seemed to have made her younger. Almost like the workings of fate.

"Archlord, how is the condition up there?" The Empress asked, as she sat down upon the throne.

"Not very good. We could only search Henesys. Out of the five hundred people, a hundred are dead, and two hundred are missing. Artemis Pierce has also been annihilated. Her daughter Athena succeeds her."

"Oh?" She said, "And where is the Dark Lord?"

"I've come to see you about that." The Archlord said, and he bowed. "I was hoping that you could use the Mirror of Desires to confirm my… assumption."

"What is it?"

"He may be dead." The Archlord said, "The Kranthos have no idea where they had gone. I was hoping that he had just managed to cloak himself well enough, and is staying hidden for a reason."

"Maybe we should wait." The Empress said.

"Empress!" The Archlord said, "If he's dead, or dying, then we must render help immediately."

"Do you feel guilty, Archlord?" The Empress said. "Or is it love?"

"Both…." The Archlord said, "If I wasn't that reckless before, perhaps my brother and you wouldn't need to suffer on like this.". Empress, please!"

"The spirits won't agree." The Empress said, and she looked away. "This is how fate works. If he's destined to die, then whatever efforts we invoke will be futile."

"Then take my life as a sacrifice." The Archlord said. "I am willing."

"I've long accepted fate." She said, and sighed. "You don't need to feel guilty. Perhaps it's all better this way. We don't need to grow old, after all. We can die in honor and glory."

"Do you really want that?" The Archlord said, "Is that really your wish, to die as an Empress?"

"I…" She couldn't answer that. The air in the throne room was becoming stifling again. The pillars around them kept lighting up and dimming, and it was getting frustrating.

Finally, she said, "Come. We'll see the Mirror. But I cannot be sure that they'll help"

She got off the throne, and whispered something. It was hard to believe that this young girl had been twenty before. He had become used to seeing her as a child… a very intelligent one.

The throne faded away, and in its place sat a mirror. It reflected the ceiling above, and it was shrouded with mist and shadow. People believed that the Mirror of Desires could see into one's heart and grant wishes. It was something they lusted for, but they didn't know that it was simply an illusion.

There seemed to be faces reflected upon the mirror, just above the Archlord's head – three faces – but there was nothing behind them. On the mirror, almost as if written by somebody, words formed:

_What do you seek, young one? _

"We need your help to find somebody." The Empress said.

_Is this really that important, for you to consult us? Perhaps it's time to accept fate. _

"We just hope to know, just to find out, how's the Dark Lord doing." The Empress said, "Please! We can't find him!"

_Hm…. The Dark Lord?_

The Archlord could feel a gust of wind pass him, and the pillars at the side began to dim. Then he saw part of the mirror cracking, but he didn't dare to interrupt. Perhaps it was natural.

_We will not render assistance. He is a traitor of Fate, and he deserves to have his soul condemned _

The Empress looked puzzled, but she was thinking quickly. The Archlord remembered the times where the three of them had to deal with angry teachers back in school, but that was a long time ago. "Why do you call him so?"

_He has broken the Lore._

The Lore was a set of principles that the Dark Lord and Archlord had sworn to follow. But only half of it was known; the other half was still indecipherable. The ancient text were too complicated.

_Do not fret, Archlord. You are still a free man. But the Dark Lord has turned to the Forbidden side. He has deceived Fate and you. Now a decade has passed, his lie is exposed for the world to see. Do not bother to help him, or you'll face our wrath. _

"Empress!" He said. He could no longer resist it. "What does all this mean?"

_Just wait five hours, and the darkness will soon relinquish._

"The Dark Lord…" The Empress said. She closed her eyes, and breathed heavily. "He is a Double Knight."

* * *

_Angel [verb]_

_1. the Creator's warriors. Usually winged, and belonging to the light._

_2. Guardian_

_3. A kind person_

_

* * *

_

There was a flash, a pure, white flash.

The Dark Lord crashed upon the sodden ground. He quickly stood up, and summoned his sword. The grip of the familiar fabric calmed him down a little. At least he knew that happiness had once existed in this world of madness and greed. He looked around. They were in the Tunnels that Lost the light.

The rogue knight was leaning against a boulder. His hair was messy, and he was bleeding in places. But green sparks were travelling across his body, drying the blood and sealing his cuts. A Knight's skill.

"You're more powerful than I thought." The rogue knight said. He raised his hands to his eyes, watching as the sparks touched and healed. "But why resist using the final arte?"

The Dark Lord cast his Heal. The green sparks touched his skin like a gentle, warm hand. "I've no wish to become a true son of the darkness." He said, breathing heavily. His time was running out. "I will resist fate."

"Very well." He said, and he extended his hand forwards. "I am the one who has been appointed to guard Fate's passing. Since you've decided to defy us, I'll have no other choice!"

Dark wings sprouted of his back, tearing the uniform. The rogue knight yelled, and hammered the ground. He seemed to be writhing in fury, and his voice was growing strangely deep. Purple light shot out of his body, and he was laughing. He conjured a magical, purple spear in his hand, and threw against a nearby boulder.

"Die under Fate's hand!" The boulder exploded, and the tunnel seemed to tremble under his might.

"So be it." The Dark Lord seized his sword. "I will protect."

* * *

"Empress… just tell me," The Archlord looked up, "What is a Double Knight?"

They were in her room, now. She had dismissed the guards standing outside the door, and was pacing about. He sat on the chair, confused and tired. In his ten years of being the Archlord, he hadn't seen anything like this.

"A Double Knight is one who brings the light and darkness together." The Empress said. "The ancient text says he is one whose hatred and love have been united."

"What does this mean, Empress?" The Archlord said. He massaged his head, trying not to snap. Even if the Empress didn't mind, there was protocols to follow.

"He acquires power almost equal to a God. It was said that the Creator himself was similar to a Double Knight." The Empress said. "That's why the spirits in the Mirror fear them so badly. Only a Double Knight can truly damage it, but nothing else can destroy it except the Creator himself."

"But that's… crazy impossible." He said.

"Who knows? We only use a small fraction of our brainpower, after all. I believe that a Double Knight only manages to use half." She began playing with her hair. It was a habit that she kept even after becoming the Empress. "But that power is strong enough to kill experts like Artemis Pierce."

"But why... how did the Dark Lord become a Double Knight?" The Archlord said. He turned to her. "Don't tell me…"

"I'm afraid so." The Empress said. She glanced down, like a child who had done something wrong. "It was all a mistake from the beginning."

"Perhaps not." The Archlord said. He sprang upwards. He could do something to make amends. "And he's still alive?"

"Yes." The Empress said, "Or he should be. If he's a Double Knight, we must start factoring in the impossible."

"But how did you know?"

She didn't answer him. The Archlord turned the cabinet on the wall. "May I open that?"

"It's already gone." The Empress said. "My time's limited, after all. I might as well swap it for someone useful."

* * *

The light receded from the tunnels, and the six-armed lizards chased after it greedily.

The ice that had accumulated there for thousands of years slowly melted. Water began dripping from the top of the cave. It was softer and calmer than the crunching of bones, or the snarl of beasts. It had been a long time since the Dark Lord had heard such beautiful sounds.

Or was it because he had never paid attention before? Death really changed people in ways.

An icicle fell from the roof, and impaled a lizard. There was a loud squelch, and the lizard roared in shock and pain. The other lizards froze, and one of them bit the fallen lizard's tail.

"There's no mercy in this world, Lord." The voice resounded through the tunnels. The light was still receding, but it never seemed to diminish completely. "But for the few who have kindness, I will protect them."

The Dark Lord seized his sword, and got up. He was slowly getting tired, and it was becoming hard to resist. The light seemed to awaken a part of him that was still human. He rubbed his right arm; it was burning, and turning black.

He was turning into a Son of Darkness; a puppet! But for some reason its progress was getting stemmed.

"A true Knight." The Dark Lord said, "Hatred and love combined, a force that even the spirits fear."

"And when fire and water come together, they can build worlds." The rogue knight said, "I've seen the ancient texts before." The Dark Lord could hear footsteps. They were both recovering, preparing for their next attack.

"But in the end only one can triumph. If it's love, a Knight will be born. If it's hatred, the Kranthos will be made." The Dark Lord said. He brandished the sword towards the darkness, feeling the light empower him. "But if you want the Empress's soul, you must come past me first."

"Then I will." The knight said. He flew up against the ceiling, looking some giant bird of prey. "I fight for Celestia."

He snarled, and lunged forwards. But instead of coming towards the Dark Lord, he slashed against the sword.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a mage had come to see the Empress and the Archlord. There was some disturbance in the Tunnel that Lost the Light.

"It's been sealed since this lunatic came about." He said. "But we've been sensing five and a half people in it."

"Five and a half?" The Archlord said. It was impossible to have half a person! "Make yourself clear."

"Well, it's probably a glitch –"

"The system worked well for the past hundred years." The Archlord said. His headache was making him feel irritable. "Just get to the main point."

"Maybe a Halfring's in there." The mage said, and he shrugged.. "Any half-human may cause such a result."

"I thought you said it was sealed." The Archlord said, and he sighed. There was no other way to get in from the surface. "Just tell me, what the heck does all this mean? Do we get ready our forces to attack?"

"It's advisable." The mage said. A messenger ran into the room, and bowed before them.

"Pardon my brazenness, but something's gone wrong with the system."

The Archlord groaned, but the Empress looked nonchalant – almost ready to accept Death. She was lying on her bed, her eyes closed, but the Archlord was sure that she wasn't sleeping.

"What the heck's going on right now?"

The messenger said, "It seems that there're six people in there now. However they're getting in, they're not using the entrance."

"So what the heck are they, ghosts?" The Archlord said, and he slammed his fist again the table.

"We just need to open the gates, and attack whoever's inside." The mage said. "Even the Dark Lord can only get in through the entrances."

He was assuming that the Dark Lord was a simple Kranthos, of course. He dismissed both of them, and began planning again. What would be their best choice?

The Empress sat up. "I knew this would happen."

"And you still gave away your sword to him?" The Archlord said. "Empress, pardon me, but if you die… it'll mean the collapse of our system."

"It won't." The Empress said. She looked away.

"What do you mean, it won't?" The Archlord said, "Pardon my brazenness, but your soul will be shattered if that thing snaps!"

"I… don't mind.' The Empress said. "This is fate's calling, Archlord. When I'm gone, another woman will sit on the throne. Nobody's indispensable."

_Tell that to my brother, _he thought. "Nevertheless, we are recalling all troops. We will stand barricade here until the main force annihilates the rogue knight. Then searches for the Dark Lord can be done."

"You won't need it." The Empress said. "I know he's in the tunnel."

* * *

A sudden scream broke the silence. Light appeared at the end of a tunnel, and there was the crunching bones and metal. No! They had fallen into a dumb trap!

The rogue knight stared into the Dark Lord's eyes, and he grinned. "It seems that I have won."

"N… not yet!" The Dark Lord broke the rogue's knight grip, and he fell back. The sword, he had to find the damned sword! Kyrista's sword! His arm seared painfully, and his vision was dimming…. A little by a little. Something else was in the tunnel.

"You won't find it. The greed of Man's dark enough to blind you." The knight said. The tunnel became to tremble, as if there was a small earthquake. The shouting became louder. The main force.

But the sword! It would certainly be lost in the confusion – broken, even. There was no choice.

He thrust his hand up to the sky, and conjured an orb. His arm seemed to glow black at first, before it receded back into a healthy peach colour. He no longer felt as tired, but something was jarring in his brain.

_Destroy. _

He felt as if something – wings – might sprout out from his back, but he resisted it. The orb shone in the darkness, reflecting black light upon the jagged walls. He could almost feel the sword sitting in the darkness ten feet below him. The knight wouldn't break it yet. He needed her soul to be intact.

"But have you wondered how I obtained these powers?" The knight said.

"What?" The Dark Lord breathed. Accepting the darkness within him felt strange… yet he remained in his human form. Kyrista's protection, he knew. Once it was gone, he would be doomed to be a puppet – albeit a powerful one – of the dark.

"It's only been, what, a month? Three weeks? Heck, I even forgot, but it was a short time." The knight said. "Yet I can match ten years of your powers. Have you ever wondered why?"

The Dark Lord paused. The sword seemed to glow in the dark. He was submitting to the darkness now, bit by bit. Only Kyrista's protection could save him, but she had done it at a high cost.

If one of them had stepped on the sword accidentally…

"The three spirits in the mirror, they are with me." The knight said, and his eyes glowed.

"So?" The Dark Lord said. "What can they do?"

"Bring me to the Empress." The knight said. "It is time for checkmate."

* * *

Another crazy thing happened.

"What do you mean, the door's been shut?" The Archlord said. He really felt like shouting at somebody now. Everyone was screwing up at their tasks, and he was expected to clean up the mess. And the Dark Lord! He ought to know better!

"It seems as if that some external force has interfered." The mage said. "We can't withdraw the troops now. They'll be stuck in the tunnels until we find a solution."

"How long will that take?" The Archlord said. "The Empress is at stake!"

"Six hours, unfortunately."

"That's too goddamned long!" The Archlord said. "Empress, we'd better move to the throne room."

She did not complain and followed his orders. She finally seemed at peace, as if she knew what would happen. She sat down upon her throne, and closed her eyes. The Archlord gazed at the young girl, and cursed. All this was his fault.

"When he comes in, do not resist." The Empress said, "You're not strong enough. He'll tear you apart as easily."

"I refuse to believe it." The Archlord said. "The spirits will protect us."

"Will they?" The Empress said. "The time for that has already passed."

A voice boomed.

_Do not defy fate, young one. You'll see the consequences in fifteen seconds._

"Fifteen seconds?" The Archlord said, "What do the spirits mean?"

"You'll see." The Empress said, and she closed her eyes.

There was another whirl of light.

The Dark Lord crashed upon a cold, familiar marble floor. He could hear surprised shouts from above. Mages were running around, shouting. They began running away from the door. Some of them even dropped their wands in their haste, and it clattered against the floor.

A voice boomed.

_Do not defy fate, young one. You'll see the consequences in fifteen seconds._

The knight conjured a thunderbolt and hurled it against the fleeing mages. They froze in place, statues that were made of flesh and bone.

"Cowards."

The knight burst through the throne doors, and they shattered like they were glass. The Dark Lord followed him, but he wasn't as fast. He felt as if something was gnawing in his brain, and it was becoming hard to breathe. A voice in his head boomed.

_Destroy the other Double Knight, or die trying!_

He could see the Archlord's surprised face, and the Empress calm demeanor. But the knight was already flying forwards. He could see the Archlord unsheathe his sword and cut through the air, but the knight simply got out of the way. His hands were outstretched towards the Empress.

The Dark Lord stared at the pillars and the sword. He had an idea. Fate might be reluctant, but it would have to become his piece of paper as he rewrote the ending.

* * *

The Archlord raised his sword again, but the knight simply thrashed a punch into his face.

He whirled, and slashed again blindly. It clipped the knight's wings, and he fell upon the floor in fury. He snarled, and leapt upon him. The knight whammed another fist against the Archlord's face.

He felt as if his head might have been torn off. He was aware of that he was flying, and he collided against the pillars. His armor absorbed most of the impact, but he wasn't sure if the crack he heard came from him or the pillar.

Hopefully the pillar, because the knight was approaching him. His eyes had turned garnet, but the wings he had… they seemed to belong to an angel. He could see green sparks travelling across the knight's body, healing him like faithful guardian angels.

The knight bent down, and raised his hand for the final blow. There was no pity in his eyes, only a mad desperation. The Archlord felt fingers curl around the front of his helmet, blocking all the light. His sword had disappeared, somewhere. It was the end.

"Stop."

The Archlord could sense the spirits gliding in the air above him, looking rather triumphant at the devil they had made. Love made people made, the Archlord was sure.

"Stop. It's me you want." The Empress said. She had gotten off the throne, and was walking towards them. "Take my soul, and leave."

The light came back; the fingers were gone. "Damned… no." The Archlord said. He could hear the pillar crumbling next to him. The reign of the Knights was over. They had been betrayed by their Creator.

_Do not defy, Archlord. This is fate. The old must make way for the new._

Three faces appeared in the air… ghostly faces. They whirled around, strangely ugly and contorted. The spirits, he knew. What was happening? Even the ancient texts had shown the spirits to be kind, beautiful individuals…

"Indeed." The Empress said, and she stopped three feet from the knight. What was she doing? The Archlord tried to call out, but he was too weak… too tired.

"Very well." The knight said. He stood up, and extended his hands. It was dripping with the Archlord's blood. "I'll make this painless and quick, but I can't guarantee it if you struggle."

"I won't." The Empress said. "Come."

The knight stumbled forwards. One of his hands grabbed her shoulder. His wings quivered. He could see the Empress bleeding, but she simply looked at peace. What was she doing?

"Dark Lord..." The Archlord said, "what the hell are you doing?"

"Saving Kyrista." A voice reverberated across the room, almost as mad as the knight. The Dark Lord heard him? Everyone turned. It was forbidden by the Lore to refer to the Empress by her name. Suddenly there was hope again….

He remembered; only a Double Knight could damage the mirror.

But how would they destroy it, and with that the spirits within?

_Do not defy fate, or you'll be condemned to fate worse than death. If you surrender now, you may have a lighter sentence. _

The Dark Lord was standing in front of the throne, and he brandished Kyrista's sword against the faces. "So, it has come like this. If you still want to dispose of Kyrista as the Empress, then you must get past me first."

What the hell was he doing? The Archlord looked around for his sword – and there, it was lying about five feet away from him. If he could crawl there, and hit a vital spot on that Double Knight…

"You won't stop me." The knight said. The faces around him glided around in the air like flitting birds, but they said nothing. "I don't believe that you are more powerful than the spirits."

"I would like to ask again; would you want to change fate, spirits?" He stared up the faces. "We have worshipped you and made sacrifices to you. Yet you betray us today, using the name of Fate as an excuse for everything you do."

_SILENCE! We will not be spoken to like that. _

"Lord, please…." The Empress said, "You don't need to get involved."

"Oh yeah, spirits? I am sick of protocol, I tell you. You are nothing but a bunch of parasites. You fill yourself with envy and jealousy." The Dark Lord swung his sword through the air. "And with that you corrupted the rest of your followers, the ones up there."

_Archlord, attack him! Devil, if you don't –_

The rogue knight nodded, and he sprang forwards. The Dark Lord grinned. "Then this is the end, after all." The Dark Lord said, "Kyrista, I guess this is where I have to say farewell."

"Your sacrifice'll be useless!" Kyrista called. She ran up the stairs, the shadow of the knight covering her like some dark grey cloud. "Lord! Just listen, please! You don't need to die for me!:

"See you in the afterlife, Kyrista." The Dark Lord said, and he grinned. The sword spun through the air, and the light rays began flying through the room. The faces roared, and the sword flew and cut with unerring skill.

The pillars glowed magnificently as the time Kyrista was crowned. They were submitting to a new owner.

The Dark Lord crumpled, and he fell down the stairs. It was hard to believe that his defiant brother suddenly looked like a puppet whose strings had been sliced off. The Archlord picked himself up. Maybe he had lived, somehow…

"Lord, you idiot!"

In the air, along with the three spirits, there was a line. Dark Lord's handwriting, he was sure. He had seen it too many times, fifteen years ago, when they copied their homework from each other.

_I have not failed you, Kyrista.._

The glowing pillars at the side rumbled. The light rays seemed to pause, before they collected in the centre of the throne room. A spear was forming, he was sure. Its light was so blinding that the Archlord had to cover his eyes, so that he could see Darkness…

_The one who unites Light and Darkness…_

The spear flew through the air and crashed against the throne. There was no explosion – the spear simply disappeared with the throne. The mirror did not shatter, but melted as if made of ice. The water dribbled down the stairs, and instantly froze. The ice was not crystal clear, nor was it white, but it was black. Coal, shiny black.

The faces roared, but no sound came out. They crumbled into dust and fell upon the ground as grains of sand. Returned to the Earth.

The knight crashed upon the ground, and the wings receded from his body. He turned, to the great ceiling, and his hand stretched towards the sky.

"Empress of the Heaven, Celestia…. Take me. This world… this world is full of darkness!"

The pillars began to dim, as the Dark Lord's blood pooled and collected at the bottom of the throne. The throne room turned dark, and the pillars crumbled. The throne disappeared, leaving an empty space. Everything was gone, but the Empress had lived.

Fate had been overthrown.

* * *

Three days later, the ship set off for the great oceans. The Dark Lord had been cremated, and they kept his ashes in a sliver tin. Without the spirits, the underground fortress had been destroyed and overrun. Everyone was healing, and some were helping to rebuild Henesys.

The sunset reminded the Archlord of sandy beaches and palm trees. He could imagine what his brother would say: Damn it, live well, or I'll come back and haunt you. But ever since they assumed their positions, they were forced to be more polite and formal. Now they were all free.

"Empress… do you mind me asking something?" The Archlord said. They stared out into the great oceans.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering… you said that only a Double Knight could damage the mirror." The Archlord said. "How was it possible that my brother destroyed it?"

"He transcended the path of the Double Knights." The Empress said. "I was thinking about it the other night, too, and it came to me. There're not only two classes, but three."

"Three?" The Archlord said. "What's the third one?"

"Angel." The Empress said. "I figured it out. Every Knight protects an Angel, but when he does so, he becomes an Angel himself. I believed that the Dark Lord figured that out."

"So… he also mastered the third class?" The Archlord said, and his eyes widened. The greatest element of an Angel was sacrifice. "Then…."

"Yes." The Empress said. "I believe he became an Angel's Knight."


	2. Another Flower

**Author's note**: There may be a companion to this piece. I had originally intended for this to become an introduction of another story, but it stands out strong enough to be on its own. It contains what I've been feeling for a while, and I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I did while writing it. It is such stories that make the act worthwhile

I will post this story under Angel's and Knight, and any other stories will follow there.

* * *

**ANOTHER FLOWER**

The fogs in the meadow cleared out, bit by bit, as the sunlight slowly leaked in through the leaves like some newborn child, before blooming into brightness. He shielded his eyes with his fingers and looked through them – even now, the sunlight seemed alien, a part of him that had ceased to exist. The place somehow smelt different – how, he didn't know, but something was definitely gone.

How long had it been since they had last come here? He had forgotten, forgotten about a place that he had once called home.. He could almost imagine Edele's voice, quiet and beautiful, telling him about some story she had read the night before, her voice quivering excitedly.

He could not remember the title of the storybook – it was some childish thing, he supposed - but he remembered that she had always recited them with much joy. She loved the characters in the book, knowing them almost like her family members, but she was always a little unhappy about the ending.

That was it. There was no definite ending. She had never liked that– the only flaw in a beautiful piece. Many times she had tried to pen her own ending, but she always found it too childish. She would simply shake her head and shrug, shutting her papers under the drawer.

And they had been gone forever. The drawer was locked, and they would never find the key again.

He climbed down the slope slowly – there was a trail, but he had forgotten where it was. It was hard to see in the fog, anyway. He felt the wet grass under his hands, vibrantly green. He frowned – it never had been that way. Or was it just because he had never noticed? He wasn't sure.

Edele would. She loved details, and she always pointed out the little things that the villagers might have never noticed. Nobody else would stop and turn for a flower growing in the crack of the pavement… but she would. It was in her little world that she thrived, and wrote her story, safe from the cruel hand of the world.

She was almost like an angel, living in her own paradise, then brought down by others who never understood her dreams. It was them who started felling the forest, slashing down the majestic trees that once stood against the sun to protect them, trampling upon the saplings which desired to grow. They brought great horror to her – and her solace remained in her storybook.

The book. Where was it?

It was gone, disappeared in her last hour of darkness. They had searched for it, but in the night it was impossible to see. And after the shadows had gone it too had disappeared, but he had a premonition – a dream, even – that it was here. Her last sanctuary, forged by the mothers of time, soon to be smashed by the children of her prime.

He sped up. He could see the great willow, under which many evenings they had spent, and he felt a surge of joy at the familiar sight. The grass crumpled under his feet, and the winds urged him on. He could see the lake, sparkling against the hills.

It was there, alright. He could see the old cover, adorned with her neat handwriting, and he could have shouted with joy. There was proof that she had existed! Evidence that this wasn't some nice dream, gone in a fleeting instant… He smiled, for once, before he remembered.

But their moments had gone… didn't they? He turned over to the last page. It was blank, except for 'The End' written at the bottom. There were two parallel lines scribbled along the paper.

What she had tried to tell him? He had forgotten. Two parallel lines – certainly it meant that they were the same, as one? He kneeled against the dirt, as if that might have lessened his sin.

What she had tried to told him?

He sat there, for a long time, and the fog came back again. The sun started to fade. He looked up, exactly the way she would have done. The azure skies were tinged with orange, and he could see the moon, prepared to take over. What would she have done?

It was deathly silent in the meadows, and the cold winds rushed against him. She never liked sunsets that much – but she didn't hate it. She loved the peace, the tranquility – but she hated that everything good would have to come to an end.

A caustic finale.

The winds blew again, and the tree rustled almost sleepily. He could see the lakeside, full of little pebbles, where they had thrown them against the water and watch them skip. He turned, and he could finally see the little drawings they had done on the tree – drawings that he had suddenly noticed that was there.

He hugged the book. The warm, familiar smell gave him some warmth. She could have almost been here. He picked himself up from the soil, no longer caring about the dirt, and he walked towards the dark, calm lake.

The little fishes darted away as he approached. The lake was covered with lily-pads on one side, and he could see the distant glow of fireflies. They were little lights – dimmer even than candles – courting in the air, settling upon the willow tree. Did she mention this before? He somehow felt she must have, but he could not remember.

He had missed a lot of things, he suddenly noticed.

He gazed up at the skies, twinkling bright, almost winking at him. What would she have said? How would she have put it? Why didn't he have any idea!He was missing something again. But what? What?

The book! He had to remember the title! He fumbled with the book, and flipped to the first page. The pages had browned, but he could still see the title. And he could see her handwriting, neat as always, upon the paper.

Heartfire

_Dedicated to you as my last gift… Stay safe and happy, okay?_

He gripped the book, and the moonlight grew stronger and fiercer. He started shaking, and he felt something so powerfully, so mysteriously, that he couldn't contain it anymore. He stood up. Why? Everything had gone. Why did her heart have to be so bright even at her hour of death and darkness?

She had gone, he was sure. There was no way to bring her back – even Resurrection would never work. Her soul, her cheerfulness, her story was gone. Turned into a pile of ashes. All she had left was this book – a story that she thrived in, with little happy notes she scribbled at the side, little memories she wanted to share, but he had never listened. The book he had refused to read, insisting that there were better stories… one of the people who were destroying the world.

He looked into the water, and it glared back. He could feel the sins upon him. For she would never come back, even if she could. He had ensured it, in his folly of greed. He could have chose to stop fate, but he didn't.

He had everything now, but his heart was empty. His soul had gone, abandoned him in his moment of madness. He had never been satisfied when he was with her, always complaining about the lack of money, the roof leaking, or how it got too cold when it rained. Now he wanted them back – he wanted everything back, but it was gone.

Gone with the little stories she had wrote, in the drawer that had been burnt.

Gone with her.

He shouted again. The villagers were celebrating. Fires and roast meat and dances – all for the survival of some elder! She had been a little flower dug up and thrown at the side, made away by the farmer, slowly withering in the darkness with the hour.

She had been some special flower – sunflower or lavender, even – but she had been trodden underfoot in her intruded haven.

He crumpled against the grass, panting, choking, staring at the sky. He remembered her last words; _I know why… I don't really blame you… and before I go I want you to know that I have already forgive you. _Her gentle smile, her cheerful tone… it should have awakened him from the monster he had become.

But only she would pay attention to detail.

The stars were especially bright tonight. He traced the parallel lines in the night sky. He finally understood what they meant – for however far and long they had ran together, however similar they were, no matter who had drew them…

They would never meet once again.

She was saying goodbye.

* * *

This story also partially reflects a girl I once met - and she was rather special, inspiring the character who led to the creation of Angel and Knights. But our lives are, unfortunately, running parallel. I can see her (and she can see me?) but chances are that we will never meet again. Oh well. I wish her good luck in her life.

(And if it's not clear what he did, everything will be explained in the companion story - if I do write it.)


	3. Dove of the Scarlet

A/N: It's been a while since I last published something on here, and the first time I've written something so long. I'd like to keep this short. Most of you who have seen the first story will probably be gone. Nevertheless, for the rest of you are here, I hope that this is good enough. Might write more in the future, and might be changing my penname. I don't know what else to say, but, enjoy.

* * *

The last thing she remembered was the light.

It was also the light that drew her back, made her aware of the endless bronze and red that stretched and ran across the horizon, the two colours blending together to form a ravine. At her feet a waterfall tumbled down, its water blood red. Condors perched high above, hardly visible under the shade of the mountains, but their piercing gaze was felt by all. Their faces were as black as ash, and they stared down at mortals below, their red eyes bright and fierce.

It was the light that seemed to pierce her eyes.

The straw ceiling came into focus. Her head was heavy, pounding a little, as if she had a minor headache. She slowly lifted herself up into a sitting position, her hands trembling, and she shivered. She felt the chill in her bones extinguish and felt slightly better, then looked around.

The room was simply furnished, almost like a peasant's house. A dull pain struck in the back of her head. It felt as if a cockroach was biting her – but it disappeared as soon as it came.

Where was this place?

Who was she?

As she wondered the thought, her name simply drifted into her mind – as if it was distant, but just waiting to be called into her consciousness.

Dove Phoenix.

Why was she here?

Her mind was blank at first, but the answer slowly came… She remembered something about being cut down by a sword. She looked about herself, and found that there was a long scar along her arm that she hadn't realized before. Something in her head ached again, and she felt a little nauseous. Her head throbbed at first, but then the pain was so bad that she sank back to her bed. Maybe that wasn't the truth. Maybe she was drugged by the enemy.

The enemy?

"You're awake."

A man stepped through the doorway and put down a bucket of water and a rag. At first she thought he was a farmer, but he looked too young. His hair was long and rough, and it covered one side of his face. The other side she could see hinted at scholarly roots rather than a lifetime planting rice. As her eyes met his she shuddered again, and instantly a thought came into her mind.

She did not like this man.

"You are?"

"Sirocco." He said. "I brought you here after I found you, lying in a puddle of rainwater and your blood. Maybe it was an accident. People were fighting."

"I know." She said. His language sounded a little strange. "What accident?"

"You don't remember anything?"

"No."

He turned and glared at her, looking suspicious. "You don't know what happened to them?" Sirocco leaned slightly forwards and stared at her. "Nothing at all?"

"Them?" She said, "Who is, 'them'?"

"Just some people I knew." He relaxed his expression. "Never mind." He picked up his shovel again and lowered his head, so she couldn't see his eyes. "I'll go cook something."

"Wait! How long have I been lying here?"

He paused.

"I don't remember. Maybe six months."

"Six months? Without any food or water?"

"Lady, you ask a lot of questions, and I don't have a lot of answers." Sirocco said. "Don't overexert yourself, or you might find yourself spending another day in bed."

"I want – I need to walk."

"Do it in the morning, will you?"

His voice gradually faded away. She found herself exhausted, her eyelids heavy, her sight going dark green then finally black, and she could see nothing. For a moment she thought she heard condors in the distance, cawing, then it grew louder and she realized it was the rooster.

She opened her eyes and breathed hard, as if she had been underwater for a long time and was desperate for air.

She rose from the bed. Her mind felt more alert and sharp. She spotted the porcelain pot on the bedside table, and removed the cover. There was porridge inside, still hot.

Who was this man, and how was he related to her? There was something strange about him… one she couldn't point out, and that discomforted her. He didn't feel like a good man, even if he had saved her. She turned to the clothes rack next to her, and grabbed a bamboo pole. It felt a little unwieldy – too long to swing it around the room, and too heavy to swing it fast. But holding a sword would probably feel equally strange.

She stepped out of the room, careful not to make any noise, her eyes adjusting to the dark…

There were outlines of furniture – chairs and tables, mostly. The windows were all closed, making the living room stuffy and hot. Moonlight shone beneath the door. There was a corridor leading to the kitchen, and a bed in the corner.

The bed was empty.

She felt alarmed, somehow.

A trap?

Instinctively she turned behind her.

For a moment she saw something come at her – a blade through the darkness – but it was only in her mind.

There was nothing but her shadow.

She stood there for a while, unsure if she was being attacked, but when nothing happened she almost laughed at herself. At the same time, she was relieved, but didn't dare to put down her guard further. Maybe he was outside. She pushed the window open a little, quietly, and when all remained quiet she continued pushing until it was wide open. She then glanced outside the window – and there he was, kneeling on the ground and staring at the moon, as if in meditation.

She placed the bamboo pole over and, in one action, vaulted over the window. Staying as close to the shadows, she stuck close to the walls and approached Sirocco. He was wearing the same black clothing he wore, and seemed to be mumbling something. There were ashes and burnt incense on the floor. A rush of feelings came to her – not hate, just discomfort. For a while she just stood there, but then decided to be more careful.

When she reached close enough, she raised the pole steadily, and wielding it like a katana, she swung it in from the side.

The first blow took him from the side. He staggered, and then fell on the floor. She considered striking another time, but decided against it. It might kill him.

Her own ferocity had shocked her. She stood there, calming herself down, before she said,

"You."

Her voice resounded through the alley. It sounded shaky and weak.

She frowned. Was he dead? Or just pretending?

"You there!"

Her voice seemed to reverberate through the mountains, but he didn't stir. She took a step closer. Was he dead? No, it couldn't be, it was just one strike. She lowered her weapon for a moment – her hands were aching – but she regretted it almost immediately and tried to correct her mistake.

Too late.

She'd just managed to raise her hands when sand, like a nest of provoked hornets, attacked her face. She stumbled a few steps backwards, covering her eyes, and felt the pole slide out of her weakened grip. Pulled forwards slightly by this force, she stumbled for a moment, then felt the end of pole hit her stomach.

"You're dead."

The pole rose to her throat and touched her skin. She fell back one step and he followed His eyes were black, shiny like iron. They were almost canine-like.

"You cheated."

His actions didn't make her feel any more comfortable about him.

"It's either you or your opponent dead." He moved forwards with the pole, forcing her backwards. "Don't forget." Then he added, "If you were convinced that I was your enemy, then you should've killed me without hesitation."

"That's just being stupid and blind." She gripped the end of the pole and forced it down and away from her. "You can't kill me with this… thing."

"Ha." He said, moving forwards again, and this time she feel the wooden end knock into her and gasped. "If it was a spear you'll be a bloody mess."

He turned around and threw the bamboo pole on the floor. She stood still and stared at him. What was this, a trick? She kept her gaze on him, readied herself, and suddenly realized that he had bandaged his right arm. But she didn't feel like asking what it was for.

Instead, she said, "Now, my answers. "

He thought a while before he said. "You sure ask a lot, being a defeated opponent." He turned around again and kicked the pole to the side. It rolled around in the dirt for a while, before hitting a rock and stopping. "I suppose you want to know who the 'they' are?"

"Obviously."

"Do you remember who you are?"

"Dove Phoenix."

He looked stunned. "Wow. I thought you had lost all your memories."

"Not everything. I still remember myself, my core personality, and I know I hate oranges. But other than that everything is a blur."

"Alright." He said. "We used to be member of one of the mountain shadow clans. But six months ago the natives warred on us… there aren't much survivors left. And the reason why you and I are left… we're here to take revenge."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You remember Jun Phoenix?"

The name jolted her, like an electric shock. "What?" She burst out. It was as if she was on the verge of remembering something… something that just refused to come out into her consciousness. "Who is he?"

"Jun disappeared in the very same battle." Sirocco said. "You're the last one to have seen him. We – as in my late master and I – believe that he was captured and executed, although the news was never released."

She suddenly missed having the bamboo pole now. Somehow, an ancient surge of anger had burst into her heart, making her agitated for some reason. She started pacing around, trying stop the onslaught of emotion, and slowly it faded.

"What happened?"

He turned and stared into her eyes. The same eyes of iron. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows, and slid his hand across his throat.

"What?" She said, shocked.

"You only need to know what to do."

"What, kill who?"

There was a silence.

"You don't need to ask any more questions." He said.

"What?"

She suddenly realized that he had a sword at his belt, that his robes might have concealed weapons, that she was in his territory and might be at the mercy of thousands of traps.

"Just follow what I say. We have a common goal, don't we?" Sirocco said. "I'm just here to keep you alive. Your job is to avenge your master."

"For what?"

"Take back we've lost." His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. "Take this."

It was a dagger, slightly long, but not a short sword. "This?"

"I don't craft long swords around here, so that'll have to do."

"Don't you have… like, a bo staff?"

"Sure." He said. He looked around, picked up a few sticks, and finally threw her the bamboo pole.

"Really."

"I have no use for bo staffs here. We're not bloody monks. We kill. Being too kind , too innocent, is like being a chicken in a swamp of snakes." He paused, and took a deep breath as if he loathed to continue what he had to say. "One day you'll pay for it." His eyes then flashed again. "Now, don't ask any more questions, and have a good rest, because we're setting off soon!"

When they set off the moon was still in the sky, a sickly pale colour. Everything around here looked the same. Even when the light came it simply turned the monotony of black and blue to a bronze and red. Sirocco led her to a trail down the mountain. She let him go in front.

"Been abandoned for a while already." Sirocco said, when the weeds started appearing on the path. "Mostly due to the drakes in the area." He prodded the thin sword he had. "You remember what to deal with a drake?"

"… A little." She said. His sword seemed like paper next to an angry Drake with saliva dripping down its jaws. "But we're not going to need to kill them."

"If the time comes, yes."

"I already said, I won't use a sword."

"You want to be a nun, or what?"

"It feels wrong." She shrugged.

"You'll change your mind when they start pointing a sword at you." He sighed. "You really Dove Phoenix?"

"How was I like in the past?"

"Wasn't that afraid to spill blood. You spilled quite a bit, actually, especially when people started pointing swords around you. And even your master Jun spilled a lot less blood than you did. I used to think that you were a vampire or a particularly bloodthirsty werewolf."

"Master? Jun? How's he related to me?"

"… You don't need to know."

At noon they rested at a shady corner under another mountain. The sun had already come up, but despite the place looking desert-like it didn't become scorching hot. They ate strips of dried beef and had a little water, before continuing again. She started using her staff as a walking stick, and it helped her walk further than Sirocco had expected.

"Useful," He just said, and then it was the winds howling and growling for the rest of the journey until the sun was up and really burning.

"We're here." He said suddenly. "Just beyond this turn. But first, drink this."

He offered her a canister that she hadn't seen before. It was different from the other water canisters they used – this was made of black, sleek leather rather than cowhide. "What's this?"

"Drink."

She was suspicious, but drank it down anyway. It tasted kind of weird – sweet, with a familiar taste that she couldn't pinpoint. "This some kind of herbal soup?"

"Medicine. It'll boost your energy. And wear this scarf."

"Why?"

"Don't want to have them ask funny questions," He said simply. "Remember, I'll answer all the questions. And whatever you do, don 't take off the bloody thing."

There was a huge line outside the town, with guards patrolling up and down, occasionally prodding somebody who was talking too loud. Sirocco frowned, but he didn't stop or turn around. Instead, he led her forwards to the queue.

"Quiet." He whispered to her ear, so close that she could feel his breath. "Something's up around here."

They stood around for a long while, under the sun, until she started feeling a little sick. Sirocco made her drink the herbal drink again, and she almost split it when somebody pushed her from behind.

"Sorry." The man said. He was thin and pale, and was carrying a heavy bag. Sirocco glared at him for a moment, touched the handle of his sword, but seemed to let it go. The guards meanwhile buzzed around them, and Dove realized that some of them were wearing masks.

"Don't stare."

"I know."

They reached the front of the line and were led to the side by two guards. A physician was sitting behind a table and beckoned to the bench. His build was queer, pale and slender, making him look more like a mage scholar than a Perion native. "Sit." When they did so, he asked, "Have any of you travelled to other towns recently," He paused ,"particularly Ellinia?"

"No. Why?"

"Some of the residents over there have contracted a particularly infectious strain of flu." The man said. He then stretched out one of his wrinkled hands and continued, "Did you come in contact with anyone with flu, or anyone residing in Ellinia?"

"No."

"Very well, allow me to take your pulse then." His eyes shifted from Sirocco to Dove, with an almost challenging and authorial look. "Who shall be first?"

"Me."

Sirocco said it quickly and struck his hand down on the table. The man started talking his pulse, but spent all the time staring back at Sirocco instead. Sirocco stared back with a merely bored expression. After a long time the physician finally drew back his hands and sighed. "Next."

Dove put her hand on the table. The man stretched his hand over her wrist, his long fingers like the legs of some hairless spider. For a moment she was aware of the sound of her own heart beating out loud, and the man's eyes shifted noticeably in displeasure.

"By the spirits…" He muttered to himself, his brows furrowed. "Your pulse is… irregular."

"She's been feeling a little feverish." Sirocco said, and the man snapped to him.

"You, sir," The man said, a little loudly and threatening , "how are you related to her?"

"I'm her friend."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

There was an audible pause as they stared at each other.

"Friend indeed!" The man said, rolling his eyes, and slamming the table as if Sirocco had told a good story. "But I don't wish to have trouble around here. You may go, my mute friend. May the spirits be with you." He said to Dove, beckoning the next in line.

Once they were past the entrance Dove said, "You didn't need to be so hostile."

"He's a barbarian." Sirocco said, his teeth clenched, leading her down the streets.

"Barbarian?"

"Foreigner." He said. "They came here and took away quite a few jobs from us. Even the land… land is getting scarce. That's why the chieftain ordered a war on us mountains clans. Wanted our land. But of course they said it was to wipe out evil. But a year later it's getting cramped again, especially when they keep getting more of those barbarians."

"Why don't you just oppose them?" She suggested.

"Oppose them?" Sirocco said, sighing and shaking her head as if she had said something very stupid. "Nobody dares to oppose the son of the Great Eagles. Don't try tell me this place is democratic – the elections are rigged, and when the opposition gets too strong they'll get ripped by the hand of tyranny."

"… Wow." She said. "This place looks nice, though, so it can't be that bad. Look at all the silk the people are wearing here. That house, it's built out of white stone! And that – " Sirocco's gaze made her shut up, feeling extremely naïve.

"The city is nice, indeed." He said, slowly, "But look carefully at how many natives own them."

"How would I know?'

"White isn't the Perion colour. Bronze is. This kind of architecture can only be found in Henesys. If you really wish we can see the real Perion streets someday."

"Sure."

He stared at her with a queer, almost curious expression, at for a moment his brows frowned, but he simply said:

"Follow me. Don't get lost."

Just as dark fell they reached an inn, the backdoor hidden by a dozen baskets. Sirocco kicked them aside, tried the doors, but it was locked.

"Tell me if you see people coming down this way.' Sirocco said.

"Alright."

Sirocco started slamming at the door, once, twice, and then three times, almost like a drunken madman.

"By god, Sirocco!"

A young man, with messy hair and hazy eyes, opened the door. "What big problem brings you here?" He said, opening his mouth wide and yawning.

"I need a place to stay for a week." He said, pushing against the door. "Let us through."

The man unlocked the latch and Sirocco hurried her inside. Through the darkness she could see many tables and chair – a restaurant, perhaps – and a spiral staircase leading upwards. Sirocco said, "Need… two rooms, for six days."

"Two rooms?" The man said, a little too fast for someone who was supposed to be sleepy.

"Shut up, just drink your wine, I don't need you to start gossiping around like a woman."

"I don't do that." He said, although he looked less hazy now and was staring at Dove with a quiet curiosity. She shuddered but did not draw back. Then he turned his head around, started counting on his abacus, and then said, "That'll be five hundred."

Sirocco handed him the money, and took the keys in return.

"Hm, I'd expected you to bargain." The man said. "Say, Sirocco, does she have some infectious disease or what?" Lion said. "Business's been bad because of that flu over that place – please tell me that she is –"

"Her weird habit." He frowned. "I've been around her for a while, I'd know if she was sick."

"Well yes. Yes, yes, yes indeed. " Lion stared at Sirocco like one staring at an old clock in a curio shop, rubbing his chin and nodding. "Doesn't she say anything at all?"

"She lost her voice."

"Very well." The man said, although he was staring at her. "Go to sleep. Don't knock over the tables on your way up."

Sirocco led her up. Once they had found their rooms, he said, "I'll knock four times. Don't open the door for anyone else."

"Do you mind telling me why everything has to be like that?" Dove said, tugging at the scarf. "When did I become unable to speak?"

Sirocco stared long and hard down the dark corridor. She couldn't tell whether he was trying to avoid the question or he had genuinely heard something. After a long while he sighed and finally turned to her. "You look exactly like Dove Willow, see. She is – or was, depending on how you see it – Jun's friend."

"Am I related to her?"

"No." Sirocco shifted his weight ever just so slightly, and she could tell that he was lying. "Definitely not." He said with slightly more conviction.

She paused for a moment.

"You're hiding something."

A thud down the corridor startled both of them; they stared down the darkness but nothing else moved. Nothing flickered. It was probably some old man shifting in his sleep and knocking something down.

She turned to him again.

"Alright, I am, what are you going to do about it?" He said, and he moved forward one step, forcing her to take a step backwards. "Your little stick can't even kill anyone."

"It's not weakness," She said. "it's a choice."

"Choice? You –"

She moved her hands suddenly, intending to frighten him. But Sirocco instead slammed himself against the wall and unsheathed his sword, his face drained of colour, staring at her in shock. She fell back in shock, too, but when nothing happened down the corridor she straightened herself.

"What's with you?"

He glared at her, his shoulders tense, his whole body stiff. "Never mind." He sheathed his sword and stared down the corridor; apparently nobody had heard. "Remember, four knocks." He said, before stepping into his room and closing the door.

The ensuing silence made her feel afraid… but of what? She stepped into her own room and closed the door. She placed the bo staff next to her bed where she could feel it. But what was the point? She suddenly felt very isolated… She didn't even know who she was. How could someone live without memories? She threw herself on the bed, but she didn't feel like sleeping.

But even so, if she died, why should she care?

There wasn't much for her to cherish anyway…

She yawned, and went to sleep.

Sound.

There was sound.

Her head ached again, and her vision flashed before her, a distant light. The light grew stronger, but her vision was dim and blurred as if she was trying to see in the water. Everything sounded muffled. She could feel something between her fingers but couldn't touch anything. Her vision flashed black for a moment, before the colour faded away. Something fell into the water. Bubbles raced around like frenzied sharks, roaring through the water. Her vision flickered, blurred. It was giving her a headache.

Another sound.

She turned towards the source.

Metal clashing against metal. But what was it?

She felt herself swimming closer to the surface, where shapes were drifting along, blue and sliver, clashing against each other. Her vision flickered again, and suddenly she felt very tired… very tired… Something fell into the water. The bubbles attacked her and she closed her eyes. When she felt the last of them sliding off her she opened her eyes again.

The water turned red.

Something at the bottom was leaking something red. There were shapes darting around , small fishes maybe. A sword fell past her, blood washing off its shiny steel surface, falling into the darkness of the water's depths.

Then a condor appeared, circling around the battlefield and cawing in its horrible voice, its own song of agony. She felt a strong blast of wind hit her, driving her back, hot and oppressive… the condor suddenly dived down at her – and with horror, she discovered that she could not move at all.

She opened her eyes, breathing hard, and feeling a trickle of sweat run down her cheek. She brushed it up and slowly rose. It was still dark outside, but not for long. She realized that she hadn't changed since last night, and she found a pair of new clothes to wear. Then she stepped outside, and after hesitating, knocked on the door four times.

"Enter."

She quickly walked in and closed the door after her. Sirocco was sitting on the floor, facing an open window, almost as if he had been meditating throughout the whole night. "It's still quite early." He said.

"Swordsmen." She said, pacing around the room, and finally sitting on the bed. "I keep dreaming of swordsmen. Tell me why."

"Why would I know?" He said. "But today, we may find out."

"How?"

"I'll lead you to the place where I found you." He said. "It's a little way out of town, but we still must be careful. Normal people don't go up the Fallen Phoenix Peak anymore."

"Fallen Phoenix Peak?"

"It's not named after you." Sirocco said. "What were you thinking? Jun's mother, who you were named after, used to frequent the place with her sons." Sirocco stood up. "Jun liked to go up there."

"I'm named after… two people?:

"I already said; Jun is your master, and therefore you are his retainer." Sirocco said, still in the same meditative posture. "Your name, therefore, reflects him."

"Reflects his loved ones?"

Sirocco paused for the slightest moment. "Yes."

"So he had Dove… and Phoenix."

"And Jin, in case you'd forgotten."

"His brother?"

"His twin brother."

"You've never told me that."

"You know now." He said, indifferently.

"Are we going to ever see Jin Phoenix?"

"What, meet the enemy, are you crazy?"

He dropped the sword. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter and slid out of its sheath. Sirocco slowly walked a few stops forwards and picked up the weapon quietly.

"Was I like you?"

"Kind of."

She paused for a moment, wondering if she could be so paranoid, dark and murderous. "I can't see that happening."

"You will." He said. "Trust me."

After breakfast Sirocco led her out of town again, to a trail that led up the mountains. At this time of the morning there weren't many people – even the guards seemed a little sleepy – and the sun had yet to rise. At this time of the morning she could appreciate the expanse of bronze, and how every step she took sunk into the earth, marking her own presence.

It felt good.

When she felt tired she would use her staff as a walking stick – something that seemed to offend Sirocco. But he didn't say anything this time, just kept on touching his sword as if to assure himself that it was still there.

In midday, when the sun rose to the highest and the shadows were all gone, they reached the Fallen Phoenix Peak. The place was quite unremarkable, but the view was fantastic. Standing from here she would feel giddy at the height. Perion was now a distant town with little ants crawling about their businesses.

"This feels good!"

Sirocco nodded. "Jun always said that." He shifted his weight uncomfortably, occasionally glancing about, but there was nothing except a few eagles. One of them gave a particularly loud caw and he gazed up at it.

"If I had a bow, I'll shoot it."

"It didn't do anything wrong to you."

"Could be an enemy's pet."

"You'll just draw more attention killing it." She said. "There isn't a need to kill everything."

"If I don't, they will." He said, shrugging.

She said, "Sirocco – "

The eagles cawed again, followed by another blast of wind, so strong as if it was made by a wing beat of a giant dragon. The sun seemed to shadows themselves seemed to shift, ever so slightly. She forgot the cawing of the eagles, the burning sun on her skin, utterly aware of the world around her. She looked up to face Sirocco, opened her mouth to say something, but there was something loud ringing in her ears…

"_Your mother… your mother is the Phoenix?"_

The voice speaks, sounding almost exactly as hers, although just that bit different.

"_Yeah." _

Another voice spoke:

"_You know, when I grow up, I'll be like my parents. My brother and I, we will be the warriors standing at the front line, first to charge even into the faces of a thousand horses." _A pause, then_ "We will defend our homeland… to the death!"_

"_Well, good luck then." _The same girl spoke again. _"If I could I would protect all of Perion until I die…. I hate to see those… barbarians killing us, taking away everything that we have."_

"_Your parents… they were killed by them too?"_

"_What do you think? But I don't wish to talk about this today. It's getting late. I'd better return home soon before my father wakes up."_

"_See you!"_

_A whirr, then, the same girl spoke again, but sounding much more mature this time. _

"_So, Jun, is this the brave warrior you said that you would be?" _There was shrill, almost maniacal laughter.

"_I… I was forced to."_

"_They had good reason, didn't they? You went to them all the same!"_

"_Them? We should face the barbarians as one, not fight within ourselves!"_

"_Not with the forbidden skills that you possess! You broke the laws of nature! Jun, please, turn back now."_

"_I can't."_

"_Why?"_

"_I have things I need to do."_

"_I heard." _A pause. "_I heard."_

"_Must this be the end?"_

"_I don't wish for it too, but - but – "_

_A pause. _

"_She will be on her way to Hades today! I swear it upon my life!"_

She suddenly jolted out. She was aware that she was sweating a lot. Stunned, she fell to the floor. Sirocco handed her a towel and pressed the canister of water to her lips.

"Drink. You'll recover faster."

_Hey, that looks nice!_

_You want that? I can give that to you._

"Drink, damn it."

He pressed it again. The water passed through her lips and seemed to give her life. She felt better after drinking, and after emptying the canister she let it drop to the floor.

"I was… that kind of person?"

"That wasn't you." Sirocco said, bending down. "Don't worry."

"But that voice!"

"It's the other Dove." He said. He took the canister and strapped it to his belt. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I… I…" The thought of being so cruel made her repulse herself for even having the thought. It was as if she was corrupted, somehow, somewhere inside her. "I was the reason why Jun was killed, I suppose. Dove was referring to me when she said… all those words. "

"From what I know, he casted a forbidden skill on you." He said. "The skill saved your life, but for every life saved two other lives must be lost…"

"So it took away... my identity… and his life…?" She paused. "That doesn't explain why I look exactly like Dove."

"It was a coincidence. Anyway, the massacre of the mountain clans… you can't just kill Jin and Dove if you want to take revenge. Either do it to the end, or don't do it at all."

He looked up, guilt-stricken. Suddenly the face of cold Sirocco was gone.

"Dove." He said. "Dove." He shook his head. "You must understand. You're all that's left."

"No, I'm not." She said. "You still have this world! You can be a blacksmith, maybe, find a nice woman and…"

"Goddamnit no!" He said. "There are some things you will know, some things that in the end, you would prefer not to know."

"What is it?"

He turned around.

"Before I start, you must swear to hate me."

"What?"

"Don't ask questions. Just swear."

His words were so firm and his eyes were so persistent. She sighed.

"Alright."

"Now, punch me as hard as you can. As if I'm your mortal enemy."

"What?" She said almost immediately. "What's the point?"

"You swore."

She pulled her arm back and thrust her fist towards his chest. His hands swept around and knocked it aside easily. "Don't be afraid to hurt me. It's only an exercise and I still want my life, I assure you."

"Alright." She said. She pulled her fist back, and closed her eyes. But somehow she couldn't find the feelings of hatred within her. It was as if time had numbed it all. She bit her lip, clenched her fist even harder…

"I'm sorry. I can't do it."

"You have to. One day I may choose to betray you, and then you must kill me."

"You're taking a lot for granted. I might not be that stupid to see it coming."

"You think." He said. "I'm serious."

"And so am I."

He glared at her.

"Pack up! We're going back."

They got back around dusk, just after darkness fell upon the lands and turned everything a shade of grey, blue or black. The moon was round, and shone clearly in the sky, an envoy from the darkness. In the vast expanse nothing else moved, and even the winds would not come. They hurriedly retraced their footsteps and Sirocco led her back to the inn. Inside, there weren't many customers – mostly merchants eating a quiet, late dinner and talking to the waiters whom cleaned tables that were already shining.

"Sirocco!" The same man called.

Sirocco took a step forward and planted himself between that man and her, before he looked around and forced a smile. "Lion."

"Went sightseeing?" Lion said, sitting down at a nearby table and beckoning to them to do the same. Dove looked behind but there was nobody. "I was hoping to have someone to talk when you arrived!"

"I'm busy."

"No excuses this time." Lion said, shaking his head. "At least have a few cups before you go? I suppose you came from Henesys, right? Did you see the giant mushroom?"

Sirocco said, "Of course. But only one drink." He said.

"One drink."

Sirocco and Dove walked up to the table and took their seat. The waiter came with two fresh cups and said, "Sir, your weapon please."

She watched as Sirocco handed the waiter his sword, and the waiter beckon to her bo staff. Dove stared at him, and he stared back. Somehow she didn't feel too happy to part with the staff. Sirocco took it and handed it as well. "It's a custom." He said, not bothering to keep his voice low. "Sorry, Lion, my friend doesn't know the culture around here."

Dove felt a little offended but didn't say anything.

"Never mind, never mind." Lion said, waving his hands and taking a deep drink. He then poured more wine into their cups, and smiled. "So, what have you done?"

"Oh – my friend here , she asked me to show her the place of the giant mushroom. And so, I –"

Dove was quite impressed with his storytelling. He was quite the liar when it came to it. She wondered about his past – where he had come from, and why he was dressed like a peasant the first time she met him. He was obviously some scholar.

_Dove._

"Yes?"

Both men turned to look at her with intrigued faces. Lion said, "She does have some manners." He was staring at her with a quiet curiosity that was more discomforting than Sirocco's taunts.

"Sorry, she's new to our place and awkward. Parents went away to the harbour down south, see. Let me toast you as an apology."

_Run, now._

She bit her lip and kept her face low. How did she speak to voices in her head?

_Run, like the wind, don't look back._

She heard that voice before… a long time ago. Something big in her mind was on the verge of coming back. Flashes. Flashes of swordsmen fighting, with every shift of their stance making huge splashes in the puddle. One falling to the floor, blood staining the puddle red. Then more soldiers, running through the puddle, stepping on the swordsman's body, all of them fighting to their death.

Lion put down his cup abruptly.

"Really, Sirocco!"

The cup slid off the floor and broke. Dove was awkward, the memories slowly faded away, and she felt as if she had just been awakened from some trance.

"Sorry." Sirocco said. "Must have been heatstroke." He shook his head and sighed. "She can't stand the heat."

"Never mind." Lion said, sighing deeply as well as if she had done something very, very foolish. "Water for her, then?" He took another jug on the table and poured it into a cup. "Heat-relieving water."

"Thanks," She said, as he passed her the cup. Sirocco suddenly straightened in his chair and stared at her. Lion turned.

"Waiter!"

A waiter scurried across and stared at the mess. He scratched his head and said, "Broom, sir?"

"You don't need a broom to clean that! Just use your head and hands, damn it."

"It's safer to use the broom, sir," And the waiter dashed off. Lion stared at him and clenched his teeth. She suddenly realized why he was called Lion.

"I swear, I've to take him in hand… Let's clean this up."

"Alright."

Both of them bent down to pick the cup pieces.

It was then that all hell broke loose.

Lion pushed the table forwards and slammed Sirocco back against a pillar; at this moment, Lion unsheathed a short sword and charged towards him. The merchants and waiters suddenly pulled out their own short swords, as well. Dove fell backwards from the impact but instinctively rolled and was on her feet again. But nobody else noticed; they were staring at _him. _Sirocco slowly picked himself up, looking around, his mouth agape.

"You…" He unsheathed his own sword. "Traitor!"

"Speak for yourself! You betrayer of the motherland." Lion spoke, pointing his sword at Sirocco. "We're here to right this wrong. All of us… all of us know someone killed by the barbarians! And we're here to avenge our brothers."

"We don't work with the barbarians." Sirocco said.

"Tell those lies to the constables, sir."

Dove.

The name jolted her. She felt her limbs go stiff. She stumbled backwards a little, disorientated. Nobody else seemed to care.

The waiter who had entered the kitchen suddenly came out with a spear. "Locked, sir!"

"Good!" Lion said, then he turned to Sirocco. "Actually, I didn't want to do this. But life is hard, and my children do need money to eat, you know. I'm really sorry."

"How… how did you know?" Sirocco's eyes gazed around, as if looking for an exit. He still looked calm, but deep down she already knew that both of them were at death's door.

"It was from the start." Lion said. "Kill him!"

The men charged at Sirocco as one. Sirocco struck as fast as a cobra; he grabbed a chair and hurled it at his aggressors, before raising his arm. His eyes were fierce and determined. Dove backed away, again, this time touching a chair. A weapon.

"_Kagia!"_

Fire burst out of his palm. It came out in a thin, white hot stream, flew through the air as an arrow and burned three men into ashes. The other two fell back and dropped their swords. Their faces pale as chalk, they started backing away.

Lion seized a sword and hurled it at Sirocco.

To her horror, she watched as the blade narrowly missed Sirocco's eyes… It impaled itself on the wall just next to his ears, then another one found its way into his stomach. Lion picked up the last sword on the floor. At the same time she seized the chair and hurled it through the air.

Lion turned around, just long enough for Sirocco to seize the sword on the wall and strike. Lion barely parried the blow and forced both swords down. There wasn't much time to think. Dove raised her own hands and yelled,

"Kagia!"

Both of them turned to her. Something in her hand burned, then a burst of energy burst through her arm like some form of fast-spreading cancer. It jolted her arm and she felt herself being thrown back by the effort of the spell. Her surroundings spun, her head panicked.

She smashed to the ground just as Lion gave a shout and crumpled to the floor as well.

"Dove!" Sirocco yelled, stepping over to her. "What the hell were you doing?" He shouted, shaking her shoulders.

"You used magic… as a warrior."

"That's a forbidden technique! You… you could've died!"

"You… you're bleeding… and your eyes… so… bloodshot." She said, feeling very tired, and very thirsty. Suddenly she realized how close she was to death. She wondered if she closed her eyes and went to sleep, would she see the world again?

"Never mind." He said, as his blood dripped from his robe to the floor, trickle by trickle, as if there was a downpour and the roof was leaking. "Wait, I'll… I'll go get our weapons."

He stumbled through the hall and broke a few things. He then returned with his sword and the staff.

"Sirocco." She said, gasping. "Just take what you have and run."

"No, goddamnit." Sirocco said. "Have you played chess before?"

"Dove's coming."

"Remember, I'm the bishop and you're the king. Remember that."

"Dove's coming, Sirocco."

"I'M THE BISHOP AND YOU'RE THE KING!"

"You…"

"This was the sword that my master gave me. Keep it if you wish." Sirocco said, pushing the sword into her arms. The staff… I'll put it next to you. Now remember. When you get the opportunity, run."

"I… I can't."

"You will. Open your mouth."

She opened, and he poured something thick and sticky from his hands. She swallowed it by surprise and almost choked, recognizing the taste of it.

"Blood!"

"Don't worry, it's mine. You'll recover quickly." He said.

"That herbal mixture. It's your blood, isn't it?"

"Small price. Now, we don't have much time, this is the final plan. You must survive. You must survive, then you take revenge for us. You understand?"

"I… won't. We can't outrun them. This place is locked, remember." She tried to smile, but the effort made her wince instead. "I'm nothing anyway. I have no memories, no identity… I'm not missed if I'm gone. But you will be."

"Everyone I know has died, except for you." He said. "If you do recover your memories you will know. Now, I'm going to cast a spell on you. Whatever happens, remember; don't struggle, don't resist, when you have the chance to escape don't look back."

"What?'

"Remember!"

"No, damn it, no."

"You will." He said. "After I tell you this."

"What?"

"In the Battle of the Northern Dungeons, where the shadow mountain clans all gathered – do you remember anything about that?" He stared at her blank face. "At that battle, the mountains clan had an alliance. They had a good defense. They were ready."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"SHUT UP, and listen! Jun had already had peace settled. Only a few elders were still greedy, and they plotted, they sought for the one who would bring their enemies down. So they searched, Dove, high and low. And then they found me."

"You – " She said, but words would not express her horror as she realized what he was saying.

"They found me. They gave me a job, gave me power, gave me promises. It would be an easy battle. I just needed to hand over their defense plan, and that would be the end of my labours. But then…" He stared up right into the sky, his eyes glazed, breathing hard, "the clans fought hard. The Perion army was merciless, cheaters. They had borrowed archers from Henesys. And then, the last thing I knew, my whole family was lying in the dirt… puddles of red… bodies lying about."

"Then I ran." He said. " I ran, until I met Jin. Or Jun. I wasn't sure. They looked alike. He found you first, either way, and then… all these happened."

"You –"

"You look terribly like that Dove, you know. You could be her and I'd never know." He said. "But be quiet now. _Skia!"_

She felt herself shiver suddenly, but the cold sensation was only for a moment. "You…" She said.

"You'll understand. And don't lose this bloody game of chess, because it's not just a bloody game!"

The door smashed open.

Sirocco spat out blood. His face turned paler and whiter as the soldiers surrounded the inn, shouting. She could hear their weapons cutting through the air, and couldn't imagined how they would slice into flesh. He seized Lion's sword and planted himself against a pillar, blood still dripping from his stomach.

"You casted two forbidden spells. Trying to kill yourself?"

Dove turned around. It was a woman, dressed in splendid red armor and hidden behind a black battle helmet. She held a long sword in her hands, slender and sharp, her coat fluttering through the air as the moonlight to her back cast a shadow upon Dove.

"She… she has escaped."

"But you haven't."

Sirocco raised his sword just as the same moment Dove Willow lunged forwards. Willow struck towards his stomach again, and he just deflected in time, when the second sword strike came across and cut into his side. Sirocco roared in agony, and sent a blind cut through the air. The woman disarmed him and kicked him; he slammed back into the pillar again. Dove shot forwards and seized his left arm. Sirocco tried to fight using his right arm, but she twisted his hand and forced him towards the ground. Sirocco yelled out in pain this time. She forced him slowly towards the ground, with the same iron expression she had seen in Sirocco's eyes, and Dove shivered but couldn't do anything.

"Net, madam!" One of the soldiers roared, "Everyone else, get your bleeding body out of the way!"

Sirocco clenched his teeth as he stared at the team of guards charging towards him. The net loomed before him like a giant spider web, and he was the struggling dragonfly.

"No god you don't!"

There was a horrible crack sound as Sirocco twisted his body in a way that his body was never meant to be twisted. Willow reared up in shock and stumbled backwards. Sirocco didn't bother fighting anymore… instead, he turned around and started running.

"You're crazy!"

Sirocco was still flying through the air, lunging forwards like a cheetah, staring at the wall as if it had a hidden hole and he would crash to the other side.

"You think!"

Both of them suddenly got what he meant as he hurtled himself, head-first, towards the brick-wall. There was another CRACK, but Sirocco was silent. She heard a distant scratching, then a thud, and the soldiers put down their weapons. Biting her lip so hard that it bled, she turned around.

The woman drew her long sword into the air and cut into Sirocco's body. He did not scream, nor did he attempt to persuade Dove to run any longer. There was just the ringing of the weapon's thrust in the room. Some of the younger soldiers winced and looked away.

"Check the rooms."

The soldiers checked the place shortly after but quickly left when they found nobody. Not her, huddling in the corner, where the moonlight now shone upon her back and cast a long shadow.

"S… Sirocco?"

A cup fell onto the floor in the distance and she jumped. But there was nobody.

"Sirocco. Sirocco. No."

She found new energy in her arms this time, grabbed his sword and scrambled over to his side. Dove's second strike had cut him in the chest. Fresh blood was still leaking out of him, but his hands were still warm and the eyes wide open, not in shock but almost relieved. She touched his fingers and swore she felt them move, but the eyes stared blankly towards the sky and she knew that she had imagined it. His rough hands felt strangely comforting to her. The blood seeped into her own clothing and made it red. The warmth around her made her feel as if Sirocco was still at her back, looking around for some wild beast or some bandit or some evil woman or…

"I don't remember anything. Why?"

Sirocco didn't answer.

"I don't remember anything. I can't do anything. I'm useless. Please, tell me what to do?"

"Dove."

She turned around. An extremely familiar face was staring straight back at her.

"You are Dove Phoenix?"

Her memories flooded back. It was a strange feeling; it was as if she had been trying for a long time to figure out a difficult problem, only for a solution to come to her in a flash. The pain in her hands and reality faded away.

"Jun?"

The man shook his head. "Jin Phoenix. I… I'm sorry for your loss."

Jun had never spoken about his brother with hatred or disgust. They had even sparred once, but not as brothers, rather than enemies. Both of them decided to end the duel to a draw.

This man was - probably - trustable.

"What do you want?"

"To finish what Sirocco and Jun were trying to do." Jin said. He bent down, and stared into her. It was hard thinking that he was the enemy where her heart and unconscious thought otherwise. He and Jun looked almost the same!

"Save you."

"How?"

"Sirocco's invisibility spell on you – or Dark Sight, rather – will last on you for an hour. Thereafter it will fade away. You can escape easily. But you must avoid the north gate. Dove will guard it first, and then rotate to the west gate at midnight."

"Why are you helping me?"

Jin stared at Sirocco. He bent down. Dove felt a little threatened, and reached for her sword. But all Jin did was to close his eyes. "It's inauspicious for a person to go like that, his eyes open. Let the horrors of the living stay in the realm of the forgotten. Now, go."

"How did you see me, then?"

"I am Jun's twin, remember? We were the same before birth."

"You were the one helping me."

"In place of my brother. He gave his life for you. He ignored the warnings of his master, and followed in the strange but understandable follies of the ancients. He created you, Dove. And then as your bond grew stronger your form grew, becoming almost like life… and then when he casted that skill I knew you had became a real person. At least to him. You live very strongly in his soul, and in Sirocco's. You're complete now. "He turned towards her. "Please, don't let down their sacrifices. Run."

"But you… you'll be dragged down too."

"Nobody will know." Jin said. "Now, go!"

Dove picked up Sirocco's sword. "Jin… you… at least let me remember all your faces. I might never get to see you all again."

"I'm sorry for causing Jun's death. Please forgive Dove… will you?"

Dove stared into his eyes. They were almost pleading. She was moved by his sincerity. Jun might have been talking to that cruel Dove earlier a year ago, pleading for her life…

"I don't know. Sorry. I must go."

"Forgive Dove, please." He said as she walked past him. She hardened her heart and continued a few steps, then another, and another, until she was out in the street and Jin was standing in the inn, praying for Sirocco, and she was aware that this was the final goodbye.

Jin was gone.

And Sirocco was on the other side of the wall now.

The streets were empty, void of anything but shadows cast from the moonlight.

She hurried down the street, holding the sword, unsheathed. Every now and then the shadows would seem to flit across the street, almost like a ghost, and each time they did she kept turning around.

_Dove is after me._

She quickened her steps, following her heart, but having no idea where she was going. The maze of alleys were confusing, and every turn made her more and more uncertain, save for a vague instinct that led her further and further in.

Finally the alley split out onto the main road. Patrols crawling in the area, glancing around occasionally, but their gaze never stopped at her. In the distance she could see the Western Gate, the torches at the entrance burning brightly.

_Am I just going to leave like that? _

She hurried to the side and unsheathed Sirocco's sword. The blade was thin and had many scratches; the handle had also been worn out. Across the shiny steel surface there were beads of blood, and she could see her own shocked eyes staring back at her.

_Is this what I'm supposed to do?_

She held the blade in her fingers. It felt perfectly fine there, not as heavy and slow as the staff, yet more lethal than a dagger. It felt almost… natural.

_But to kill… is it in my nature?_

She stared up at the moon, but it had been hidden away by wispy, grey clouds. There were no stars that night. She sighed. Everything was gone. She hated Sirocco. She hated this world.

She hated herself.

Dove killed Sirocco.

Dove killed Jun.

She remembered the night; Dove had been hunting her, but either Jun or Jin had intervened. At that point she never thought Jin would have done that; like Jun she believed that they would be treated as mortal enemies. She had escaped being netted like Sirocco, but she was being pursued. Dove Willow attacked her near the riverside, they duelled with swords, and that Dove cut her down into the water. Water was flooding her vision, entering her mouth, then hands, they seized her and pulled her out. Jun – or Jin - had saved her, but not for long. Knowing that she was about to die, Jun ignored his teacher's warning.

He casted the forbidden artes concerning resurrection.

From day one she heard Jun's master, and the masters before that. People like her – ethereal servants – were easily replaceable. But some would eventually fall into a spiral… they would start to put in their feelings for such servants, making them for human…

But running the risk that the ethereal servant would die under a sword blessed by a priest, unless the master gave his life up.

She touched her hands. They felt real, living. Her heart seemed to beat loudly in her ears. In the moment she knew what she had to do.

When the entrance fires were lit even brighter, it meant that midnight had come. The soldiers at the gate looked up at the sky, and began to speak to each other, before some gathered around the fire. She hurried to the gate before her invisibility was gone. There was no trace of Dove, but her heart was utterly aware where this person was. She followed her instincts, down a nearby alley. Only one house still had a lantern lit – it looked abandoned for ages, and she knew where Dove was.

"Mistress," someone said inside, "we didn't find Phoenix."

"I see." The woman said. "Leave me. If there is any updates, inform me at once. I must see to the matter myself."

"Yes madam."

The door opened and she took the chance to slip inside. There was nothing inside except for a lot of hay and a chair. That woman was sitting on it, closing her eyes and holding her sword. Dove slowly circled around that woman. The lantern at the side flickered and her shadow was reflected on the wall.

"You!"

An hour had passed.

Dove unsheathed her own sword. "I have come." They began circling around the chair, swords trained at each other's neck. Dove felt some old part of her return.

"Finally." Dove Willow said. "What are you willing to stake on this battle?"

"Everything."

Dove thrust her sword first; the woman dodged, and kicked the chair towards her. Dove rolled to the side and let it slam against the wall, but Dove came in for another blow, the steel surface piercing through the air.

The swords met and gave a resounding clang. This was the lock she wanted. Dove thrust her fist forwards, and Willow had to block. She forced her mental will through, and the woman forced back. It was felt as if blood was flowing out of her body; she felt weaker and weaker, but kept on going. The woman seemed perturbed but she didn't try to pull out.

Dove then abandoned her sword and came at her with both arms. Safe from the Willow's sword at such a close range, she forced both of them onto the hay, where it scratched their clothing as they fought.

"Y… you're crazy!"

"Not until you made me so!"

Dove Willow finally tried to pull out, but she stumbled in her footsteps, and Dove sent a blow to her side. She faltered, hung against the wall, shocked, and Dove sent another blow into her chest, before seizing her arm and forcing her knee down that woman's leg. She fell to the floor but managed to keep her balance. Dove's other hand snaked across her throat, and tightened.

"Y…" She spluttered, trying to resist but utterly locked down. She was desperate and defeated now. Dove tightened her grip even further, as the woman's body struggled against hers in vain, and she pulled back even further, almost snapping the woman's spine. The warm sweat and desperate struggle seemed to awaken some part of her.

"Jin!" Dove Willow spat.

_Who am I?_

_Why does killing seem so different now?_

The woman tried to throw Dove off but it was a feeble attempt. Her other hand scratched across the walls and thudded at it, but it just couldn't save her.

_If Dove dies, what's going to happen to Jin?_

She felt her throat rubbing against her arms.

_Am I that kind of person?_

_Can I change what I've done? _

_Can I forgive what they've done? _

"Jun is about to die!"

Dove let go of Willow, shocked. Willow fell to the ground, breathing heavily, and Dove kicked away her sword to the corner. "What did you say." She stared at Dove Willow, and lunged herself on the back, still pinning her on the ground. "I just saw him."

_I killed somebody._

_She's still alive._

Dove Willow gave a shrill laughter. "You just saw him! I just saw him too, you know. He's about to die!"

"You're lying."

"Did you hear about the Ellinia flu?" She said. "Why we had to spend so much time and manpower on all this checks?"

"Jun – "

"Jin. He caught the flu. I thought he was just alright then, but then, he started throwing up blood. I didn't know what to do, except some elders… they said that his own flesh and blood could save him. But his father had died. I didn't know what I would do, myself, I hated living alone, and then you appeared."

"But I just saw Jin –"

"Don't tell me that! He's on his deathbed!"

Willow stared at her, her voice shrill. She took a step backwards, and they were staring at each other for the whole time. Willow stared at her own hands, and then seized a dagger out from her armor. "You've won. You've won over me. Have you ever wondered how you could survive a mortal wound, and be saved amongst all the left for dead in a battlefield?"

"Is this a trick?"

Willow laughed, and shook her head. "Sirocco might have told you that he betrayed you. But in actual fact he betrayed me – us, the mountain shadow clans!"

"What is this nonsense?"

"You are Dove Willow, don't you understand?" Willow said. "I am Dove Phoenix – and a year ago I defeated you in battle, wiped your memories and took over your identity. But it wasn't out of mercy. "She pointed the dagger out at her. "I would have killed you if Jun didn't request so. I led Sirocco to the puddle with your body, so he could put his traitorous self to use."

Was this a trick? Dove narrowed her eyes.

"Prove it to me that you're not lying."

She turned around. "Wait for the midnight gong."

"Why?"

"Patient. It'll come soon."

Just after she said the words, she could hear the gong resounding throughout the city. Once, and then twice. The lantern lighting the room flickered again. Dread started to fill her heart.

"Jin is dead." Willow said.

"No - !"

She slashed the dagger across her throat.

There was a spray of scarlet across the wall. Dove stumbled backwards, shocked. Willow crumpled and fell onto the floor. The blood trickled out of her cut like water from a spilled cup, and the dagger slid across the floor.

Was this real?

Dove stepped forwards. She remembered what Sirocco had told her during her first day, but nobody could feign death like that. Willow's eyes were closed, peaceful. But how could she, on a split second, just slash herself like that without a thought?

How could someone be so important to somebody else? How could Jin and Jun's become Willow's whole world?

Dove turned. There was a strange shine in the air, almost like a cloud of golden dust. It seemed to sparkle in the dim lantern light, slowly forming a shape. It materialized and drifted to the floor.

A feather of the phoenix.

_Hey, that looks nice._

_You want that? I can give that to you._

The present that Jun had given her when they were children. The present that had slowly faded away to time. The memories were vague but more importantly… were they Jun's or hers?

_Who am I?_

_Was I an evil person, or a good one?_

Maybe Willow was lying. Maybe Willow was mistaken. She was quite sure that she was Dove Phoenix. Dove Phoenix was still alive.

She sheathed her sword, turned around and left for the night.

_In the last, final hour,_

_A single phoenix circles the flower,_

_Thousands ants swarm the scarlet tower,_

_Oppressive winds come, and the light cowers_


End file.
